The Ancient Stones Speak

The stones speak and say well played,

you wore us out of shape just to get us here

and though we seem less precise out of shot

we speak to the incredible intentionality

or design that you all ascribed to your adults

who, when faced with it, all of it,

most of it, some of it, turned wide-eyed,

for you must not push them more than to

have them say, no, no, just glad to be here.

Isis

My mother always insisted that a cat’s

nose should be cool and wet. This less

a veterinary pronouncement; more

of a moral claim: cool and wet;

garlic and parsley; onions and basil;

right or wrong just so long as you knew

what kind of sauce you were making

I thought of this while watching Isis

sniff at the corners of a box

I’d brought in. Here we see (sniff!)

the source of all our moral senses:

good or bad; friend or foe;

more or less; yes or no

a worldview built up from our bodies:

the science of ethics born of aesthetics

In the end she deigned to admit the box

into her growing domain, smelling

as it did to her warm, dry nose

like it would do for a suitable throne

from which to curl up and proclaim

her verdicts through half-closed eyes: 

stay or go; yay or nay; play or disdain

one sniff at a time